Remove the Collar, Free the Hound
Prisoner Cells - Located just beneath the paved walkway of the Royal Prison's rotunda, the subterranean prison cells are a generally solemn affair, though well maintained. The stairs that lead from the anteroom above eventually flow into one large stone corridor which then runs between the various individual cells thank flank it on either side - five on the left, five on the right. Though mostly devoid of comfort and adequate lighting, each cell is clean, dry, and well maintained, featuring a simple wooden desk and stool, and a blanket-covered stone ingress in the far wall to serve as a bed. Each cell also features a groove in one corner of the room, complete with an angular chute that subsequently leads to a dark hole. Prisoners use these smooth grooves to conduct 'personal business' without having to resort to the more traditional wooden bucket, with Guardsmen periodically providing each prisoner with buckets of rainwater to 'flush' any excess waste into the chute, and then on into the sewers that run beneath the prison. An elaborate desk sits at the far end of the main corridor for the currently assigned jailor to preside at. Torches stand between each cell, providing illumination, while small windows do exist within each cell, built up against the ceiling to allow some natural daylight (and air) to sneak in. Note: Building individual cells is a waste of database space and hampers roleplay. If you are down here as a prisoner, you can safely assume that you are locked up in one of the cells. If you are not a prisoner, you can assume that your area of play is limited to the main corridor. STARRING? - Naoi and Thayndor Zahir Thayndor Zahir turns, curious. At the Ordinator's approach, he smiles slightly and then returns to his writing. "Have you come for me, then?" He asks. "Count Varal was here a couple of weeks ago. I suppose he's about as close as you can come to an Ordinator without actually playing the part." He stops writing, carefully sets the quill in the inkwell, and rises, slowly and with grace. "But I suppose your ilk would want to be certain for yourselves." ided, if it can be avoided." "The good Count is as far from an Ordinator that one can be," Naoi responds. "Spare me the dramatics, and your waxing analytical. You do not understand what it is to be an Ordinator, but I suspect you understand what it means to follow the Light. Do you regret, these decisions you made? The ones that lead, eventully, to your fall of grace from public society and eating hard bread in a cage." "You ask that as if there were two possible answers," Thayndor replies. "Of course I regret it. It was foolish of me to think I could wander off in the woods alone and test the Shadow within my heart. It turns you, this thing. Call on it -- the Shadow, I mean -- and you /will/ do evil. I learned that. The hard way. I only thank the Light that no one was hurt." "You think the Light does not?" Naoi responds. "Do not pity yourself, because you failed yourself. Beyond these gifts, or curses, we are human. To say, no, it is the Shadow's Fault is a cowardly thing, and quickly losing favor across the Kingdom as more and more your people are accepted and allowed to progress. When a mage falls, the Shadow is not punished, the MAGE is." Naoi leans back, lips pursing. "I suspect you understand this more then anything. Have they said when they will set you free?" "Be careful with that word," Thayndor says. "I understand another thing -- what someone mentioned to me, someone who accused me of being fallen. He said that a mage will never know when he has fallen, because, as with corruption by any sort of power, one corrupted still believes he's in the right." He gestures around. "I think had I fallen, I would not be in this cell - I would be running, or hiding, or dead. No. I did not fall. But I did an evil thing -- I terrorized my family and by earning this time in prison I have deprived them of a loyal servant when they need one." "It is as you say. It was not the Shadow's fault. It was my own, for tapping it. Can you fault a wolf for being prone to bite? And no, child of the Light. They have not so much as handed down a sentence, much less promised me release." "I did not say fell, I said failed." Naoi responds. "That certainly sounds like Varal. Though, I suppose, it is not a belief entirely unique upon himself." The Ordinator moves within easy reach, should the man move forward and reach across the bars at her, pacing absent mindedly. "Your fate is not to be known by you, or simply it is undecided. I believe I may have something for you. It relies on both a man whose my influences aren't exactly powerful, and you not making your same mistakes twice. How do you feel about Night's Edge, Mage?" "It does sound like Varal," Thayndor agrees. "It is self-righteous and haughty and cynical." He smirks. "But, in this case, I think it's likely true. Which is in part why I've submitted myself to judgment under the Law." The Zahir tilts his head at Naoi. "Night's Edge is a place. The woman who owns that place means well but is, like us, tampering with things she doesn't understand. The difference between her and I is that not only does she not understand what she's dealing with, she is also convinced that she in fact -does-. The people who often frequent that place are just as well-intentioned as she is, but markedly less naive." "Certainly sounds like Celeste," Naoi responds, "You have been humbled, former Lord. You've seen what this, your first mistake, has earned you. The possibility of remaining here, forgotten, fed your three meals and writing messages to yourself. Can you allow to be taught, by those who have not made your blatent mistake, to use thier power and believe it possible to be mastered instead of contained? Not that I agree with many of those at Night's Edge, but it seems to me... they have a way of pulling others in and snaring them. Making them family, give them something to love. You need that now, or am I wrong? Are you happy here?" "You have the right idea, Ordinator," Thayndor replies. "Family is important. Connections are important. We here on the shadowed path need people beside us, lights to show us the way. But I have a family. At least --" he swallows. "I believe I can earn them back. They are in danger; they're capable, of course, but for years Darkwater has been House Zahir's loaded die in the cup." He rests his forearms against the bars of his cell and leans forward. "It may sound egotistical, but how much of a coincidence is it that my disappearance coincided with an increase in pirate activity along the water? The necessity to resurrect the Imperial Navy? And how much of a coincidence could it be that trouble brews near Fanghill while I sit behind bars?" Thayndor leans back. "The Firelights, the others at Night's Edge -- I do call on them for guidance. And when I need their help but don't realize it, they come nag me anyway. But I already have a family, and they need me to prove folks like Varal wrong." Naoi is quiet for a moment, "Tell me of your family, Mage." "House Zahir," Thayndor replies. "The Duchess. I found out upon my return that I have a nephew, Esvan. His parents were killed in a bandit raid, not too long ago, and the folks in Hedgehem sent him to Darkwater -- where the lord of the Keep upholds a promise now three generations old to accept any ward without question and all men who are willing to serve if they'll only swear a vow of loyalty. The men and women of Darkwater are another family -- when the Duchess sent someone to tell them they could either join the House Guard, flee or join me and die, a great many starting asking around as to where I had wound up. If they get listless, wander off without leadership on the Darkwater throne -- well, not all of them will find an honest calling. These are the various ways in which calling the Shadow has lead me to do violence. That's what I mean when I say that calling upon the shadow, you /will/ do evil." He smiles a small smile. "When you get down to the nails and tacks, all those Old Guard theatrics and simplistic arguments hold a grain of truth." "Quite a dramatic fall, the collapse of your responsibility and the decay of your state of mind created, if I understand your fears correctly, some of these troubles that plague the land. The men and women that served you, because it was convient and safer then crime, have now turned back to it. Yet, that it is not why you are held here. Fortunatly, the law does not really work that way, and Fastheld continues without your leadership and influence over it's seedier element. This Kingdom will be fine. It will continue, and I strongly doubt you will ever rise that great again. Do you actully wish to rejoin your family in name, or simply return to them, embraced and loved once more. Or failing the loved part, respected." "Either way, a long and difficult road waits ahead of you." "I do have a tendency to exaggerate," Thayndor admits. "But the fact of the matter is that I could be helping, and could be motivating others to help, only because of my actions I'm stuck here. As for my family, and my return, possibly a return to status -- Ordinator, you do not need a direct connection with the Light to see that I have my work cut out for me. And you misunderstand the way a Noble feels about his family. A desire for love, to be embraced, respected, that is all secondary -- a Noble's goal is to do right by his House. To improve it. To make it more whole and strong. And that is what I want to do." "You recognize now that I am not of noble birth, and I am not infallible or wrong." Naoi responds with a faint lip twitch, the first emotional display. The gray eyes remain hard and focused. "You may call me Naoi, Mage. I suspect, in the end, my efforts will tie my fate closely to your fortune. That is what it means to be Ordinator, by the by. I am not your judge, I am your.. guide back to the proper path, and not even truely salvation. The road is too difficult to even suggest I am 'saving' you. I am simply giving you, the individual stripped of names and titles, but still a human, the chance to do so. You have a wife, or just this duty you speak of?" "I have had two fiancees, Ordinator, and you will forgive me if I do not risk dashing my chances at a third and final candidate for the dubious joy of being my wife by naming her to you when she might not be feeling like it's such a great idea. As for those details about yourself, Ordinator, I knew them immediately." Thayndor allows himself a very small smile and steps back to bow. "But you are not here as a Freelander. Your are here under your cloak of office. And the social differences between you and I are most certainly a matter of debate. As for your fate, I don't envy you." He clasps his hands in front of him. "If you're to be my conscience, you've got a long road ahead as well." "I am afraid, that was not my intention. Nor is it to bandy words with you, or to serve as your entertainment, the dubious joy that it is." Naoi responds, neutrality firmly back in place, an eyebrow arched. "It is fortunate, in this, I am not deserving of graciousness, or you may've seen the youth in me rise in a surge of bitterness at being mocked. I will not be your conscience, Mage, that you will have to find for yourself. You have reminded me of a very important lesson though. I will return, with news that concerns you. When that news is available to me." The Ordinator turns, a martial movement, heading for the stairs leading out once more. "I will look forward to it, Naoi," Thayndor says. "News, lessons, company." He steps back from the bars as Naoi retreats. "I welcome them all." Category:Logs